


all fun and games

by riverbed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Coitus Interruptus, Crossdressing, Crying, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Height difference, Impact Play, Lace Panties, M/M, Modern AU, Panic Attacks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Safewords, Spanking, Subspace, Teasing, Threesome, being taken care of - freeform, capriciousness, sin - longform, top-bottoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverbed/pseuds/riverbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>generosity has its limits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all fun and games

**Author's Note:**

> warning for unfocused pov, sudden drops and moodswings, an irresponsible amount of reverent touching.  
> this is just overdone, super-vulgar smut, pure and simple, with some lovey-dovey tenderness thrown in. it's all pretty gross.

John can’t say he’s surprised at the realization, as he rolls awake slowly, that he's in restraints, his arms stretched above his head and fastened securely at the wrists to the bars of the headboard. He flutters his eyes open to find both Lafayette and Hamilton looming over him. He smirks at them, and Lafayette grins back down at him, teeth white. Alexander looks a little skittish - he’s not meeting John’s gaze, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. He’s staring at Laurens’ bare chest, and John feels like that’s just fine.

“You two know better,” he chides. Alex lays his cold hands on his flank and it makes him shiver. Lafayette laughs low and bright, crystal-clear amongst the quietness of rustling bedclothes. He shimmies his hips, tries to get Alex’s hands lower or his body higher. Lafayette keeps stroking his upper arms, and it’s oddly mesmerizing, and John _should not_ be stirring in his boxer shorts like that over such a -

Alex walks his fingertips down John’s taut stomach and digs his nails into his hip. John yelps and Lafayette starts to _scratch,_ slow, _slow_. John finds himself wiggling again, this time accidentally.

Okay. So that’s how this is gonna go.

It’s like he’s handed the two other men a checklist and someone is filling in the little boxes till they are blacked all the way out. There is a little bit of John that thrills at highly specific parts of this, rather than the whole of it. Being around Lafayette for extended periods of time brings out in Alexander this brashness, this desire to _give,_ and boldly. He zeroes in on this. John is so used to being the one who directs that he gets drunk on the opportunity to take direction. He has to spend a lot of time convincing Alex that he actually wants it, usually - invite Lafayette over for a slumber party and that issue is resolved.

So that’s one. Be taken care of for a while, check. Next is the outnumbered thing, which never seems to get boring. Lafayette is hot, all biting wit and lean, powerful legs and with this hair that exists to be yanked, and he and Alex can’t get enough when they’re allowed. The novelty hasn’t worn off yet, he supposes. Add these things to the list of the usuals - the rope, the teasing - and, shaken or stirred, you have the recipe for a very blissed-out John Laurens.

“You will regret this,” he tries to promise. It’s so empty. “You especially are in so much trouble.” This he points at Alex, who flags under the admonishment, tilting his chin down but glancing up playfully from under his lashes.

“What shall I do to pretty Alexander while you’re indisposed, John Laurens?” Lafayette’s voice is singsong. A tease. A threat. John shivers when he sees Alexander shiver, feels his hand shake against his hip.

“You’re in charge here, John,” Lafayette reminds him. John tests his restraints and the words go to his head. It’s contradictory, weird. Wildly arousing. “He had this idea, to tie you down and make you ours.” _Make you ours._ Decadent, filthy in the way it tries to dress up the nitty gritty of it. “How should I discipline him, John Laurens?” Lafayette has this habit of calling him by his full name and in any other circumstance, it only annoys him. Here, the proximity, he supposes, and the giddiness laced in, has flown over irritating and straight into sexy.

Laurens feigns consideration. He rakes his eyes down Alex’s body, his slender waist, his jean-clad thighs. His hair is getting too long again. John wants to wrap it around his fingers, tug his head back and latch his teeth into his neck over the bruises he's already left there. He imagines the moan this would elicit from Alexander, the way he would whine and pant as he sucked new hickeys into the heated skin. Laurens moans, just a little, licks his lips. This is already starting to go to his head.

“He needs a spanking,” he says decisively. Alex’s head snaps toward him, and his eyes are sharp. They haven't done this yet. Sure, they’ve played with the idea - not talked about it, how they should, but it has rolled off each of their tongues in moments of passion, John with a _you’ve been so bad, Alexander, should bend you over and teach you a lesson,_ from Alexander an _oh, yes, Sir, please,_ but they'd never gotten around to it. Other, more urgent matters had simply gotten in the way. But John is not in any rush, here - after all, he's got nowhere to go - and Lafayette knows the kind of stuff they're into; of course he does. He’s seen the way they bait each other, witnessed firsthand the namecalling, the edges of pain they take each other to in turn. Lafayette has known intimately Alexander's preoccupation with biting the inner thighs, has gotten to experience the way John enjoys pulling a scarf tight around the neck for more leverage as he fucks into his partner from above. He trusts Lafayette, as much as he trusts Alex, and he is perfect for the job - slightly less emotionally involved, not to mention larger than John, with those hands - they can probably span three quarters of Alexander's pert little ass. John shudders at the thought. He tips his head to Alexander, reassuring. Alexander's eyes are still wide with alarm, but he softens a little otherwise - the grip he'd sunk into John's side lets up a bit, and his shoulders roll back.

Lafayette, meanwhile, is grinning. “Did you hear that, _chéri?”_ He asks. “John seems to think you need a punishment.”

Alex licks his lips. He hasn't said anything yet. Figures that this is the one time he wouldn't talk out of turn.

“Yes, Sir,” he says finally. It's quiet, but anticipatory. John swells with a dark pride. He wants Alexander to take this - as soon as the thought was planted in his head, it's been growing completely wild, and his need for it now leeches out of him through his pores. He wants to watch and hear and not be able to touch. He wants them to put on a show, just for him.

He really does love being selfish.

Lafayette goes to get the small armchair by the window, and there's a moment where it's just John and Alex on the bed. Alexander leans down, noses against the side of John’s neck, under his ear. John turns into him. “Are you all right with this, love?” he murmurs. Alexander plants a kiss against his collarbone and nods resolutely, his hair tickling under John’s chin, but then he says, “Yes,” in an emphatic whisper and there's that pride again, rolling deep within John into arousal until the two feelings are probably indistinguishable.

Lafayette returns, awkwardly carrying the chair in front of him. He comes around to perch on the edge of the seat, waving Alex over. Alex rises to stand, a little stiffly, in front of him. Lafayette reaches up, runs his hand down Alexander’s side, sort of… protectively, John realizes. Affectionate. “Off,” Lafayette says, indicating Alex’s jeans. Alexander scrambles to obey, dropping his pants and stepping out of them.

“God, Alex,” John breathes, as Lafayette stares. Alexander is wearing underwear in cream stretch lace, the color in contrast to the warm tone of his skin. He faces away from John so his view is of his backside. The panties sit low on his hips and high on his ass, covering it only halfway, wings of fabric that lay smooth against his hips as they wrap around.

Lafayette is a genius, John realizes. He has positioned them all so John will be able to see Alex from behind the whole time. He must remember to thank him later. Profusely. Gilbert is reaching up again, now, palming Alexander’s ass, and John was right - it practically covers the entire surface area. Lafayette slides his fingers under the back of the garment, coming out above the waistband, his hand flat against Alex’s skin. Then, as if in sudden realization, he pulls it away, a light _snap_ in the air as the fabric replaces itself. Wordlessly he guides Alex down over his lap, and John lets out another breath.

“Spread your legs a little, darling,” Lafayette says with a tap to Alex’s thigh, and they fall open immediately, just enough that John can see where the rest of the panties dip into the crack of Alexander’s ass in his new position. John focuses on leveling his breathing, trying not to think of how hard he’s getting in his shorts.

Lafayette’s got a forearm over the small of Alexander’s back so he can’t squirm away too far, and he pats the meat of his ass a couple times before reeling back with his arm, and this image - this moment, with Alexander bent over, clad in nothing but the base of lingerie, Lafayette poised to really hurt him if he wants - is one Laurens wants to file away and recall fondly, forever.

The first _smack_ rings through the room and Alexander doesn’t really react, but Lafayette puts a few more in that same spot and soon he’s wiggling his slim hips, making it, honestly, all the more enticing to watch. Lafayette’s aim is precise. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t let up. He is definitely not using all the strength he can muster - John has watched him throw a punch, and he knows this is nothing compared to the way he’s been held down to this very bed by the man. But Alexander’s ass is taking on this beautiful red color, coming up nice under the white of the lace, and that’s enough for John. He starts moaning in earnest, bucking up against nothing, seeking friction. Suddenly watching’s not enough after all - he wants to touch them both, wants to run his fingers over the heat trapped in Alexander’s skin, wants to dig his hands into Lafayette’s scalp until he whines, wants to have his way and boss them both around. This is always the impulse, the itch, and his wrists burn slightly where they rub against the rope. Being forced to watch is horrible, it’s torturous, but he can’t look away as Alexander mewls and starts grinding down onto Lafayette’s thighs.

Lafayette is having none of it. “Is someone enjoying this too much?” He lobs, and he pauses for a moment to squeeze a few places where the red has turned to scarlet. Alexander lets out a choked sob for each one, and then Lafayette curls his fingers under the waistband of the panties and yanks them down in one motion, simultaneously hoisting Alex’s body up with one knee. And God, Alexander is small, John thinks, scrappy but small, completely at Lafayette’s mercy over his lap like this. The underwear is down around his knees, his ass now higher in the air. “Have to make sure you learn your lesson, pet,” Lafayette tells him, play-acting somberness, and Alexander goes quiet, probably trying to steel himself and brace for the impact.

He’s taking his time with it, teasing, trailing the pads of his fingers and his nails in turn over Alex’s skin, lulling him into relaxing. Utterly professional, composed. Like he’s done this before. Maddening. John is so worked up he can barely see straight - he can only imagine how Alexander must feel. Finally, Lafayette pulls his arm back again, and he’s really on a roll this time - as he hits him he’s _talking,_ now, and John feels like the world is collapsing in around him.

“You’ve been quite a brat, haven’t you?” with a particularly hard smack to one of his sit spots.

“What does John do to discipline you when I’m not here, Alexander?” punctuated by a loose, loud slap to the center of his ass. “Do I need to teach him how to handle you? Turn him over my knee, as well, so he knows just what to do?”

“You little _slut,”_ as he digs his nails deep into a red spot, and it makes John gasp - the filth the French can throw around so easily. It sounds beautiful. It’s just unfair.

Alexander isn’t impressed by the poetry. His body is shaking, his hands running through his own stringy hair in his frenzy. He’s splayed out wildly, trying to hold on as the force of the blows drives him down onto Lafayette’s thigh. There’s something so humiliating about the panties being down but not all the way off - makes him feel like this is a real punishment, and that just drives the need building in his gut, coiling around his groin. The way Lafayette is talking to him is making him want to rock his hips forward, but the burn in his ass is intoxicating and he presses back into it, instead.

Inside him is the impulse to start screaming, just let out all the frustration, but his breath is so short and his lungs so tight that he can’t find his voice. This is so good, so goddamn perfect - being held, being hit, being observed. The whole thing. He’s overwhelmed and _safe_ and it feels so good, and it _hurts_ and he wants it to stop but he never wants it to end.

But it does; Lafayette starts rubbing slow circles over his ass and thighs where he’s hit, listening for his breathing to even out. And even though Alex had been convinced just a few minutes ago that things would never be normal again, that he’d reached a new state of being, he’s back, and it all feels so right again, wrong but so right, up on Lafayette’s knee as he soothes his sore, hot skin, letting the pain fill the blood vessels without anything to distract. They remain like that for a few minutes; John studies the pair from his place on the bed, starting to feel the soreness in his arms.

Alexander gives so much to him. He appraises him, slumped over Lafayette, practically boneless; the deep red of the crease where his ass meets his thighs, the panties which have now dropped down to his strong calves. Alexander can kick and scream and fight and complain (especially complain) until anyone gives in, but for John he just gives, so generously open to anything John wants from him, even if he’s hesitant at first - it’s always fear for John, not for himself. He feels so unsure, so wavering, so naive though he will never admit it. John finds him delicate but solid and reminds him of this often - he often has to remind Alexander where he is, when his panic overtakes him, during a rainstorm, for example. When those strike he brings Alex into his arms and holds him, brushes his fingertips against Hamilton’s cheek and runs them up and down his shoulders. Panic is more exhausting than sex so Alexander begs for a distraction, pushes his tongue into John’s mouth and John obliges though there is a part of him that knows he shouldn’t. They both indulge each other too much, and John is used to being indulged, used to getting his way but Alexander isn’t, so when he does he looks at him starry-eyed and so purely pleased that John could never dream of denying him a single thing he asks for.

Everyone in the room is a little breathless - even Lafayette, John observes, as he watches him let Alexander slide down to the floor and cradles his head in his lap, stroking his hair. Alexander rests his head on Lafayette’s left thigh to turn his head toward John, and his eyes are closed, but he’s smiling, nuzzling into the warmth of the body above him.

John clears his throat impatiently. The sound pulls both of them out of their shared reverie. “Give him what he really wants,” John tells Lafayette, as if Alexander isn’t even there. Lafayette grins as it dawns on him, and then goes for his pants, undoing his fly one-handed while he holds fast to Alexander’s hair at the crown of his head. “You want a cock in your mouth, huh?” he asks, and Alex knows he wants an answer but his mouth is flooding with saliva and he can’t focus on anything other than the pain in his thighs as he sits back on them and the way he wants Lafayette’s dick on his lips, his tongue, in the back of his throat.

Lafayette takes pity on him, ignores his lack of response, drags his cock across Alex’s mouth. Alex darts his clever tongue out - muscle memory, almost, a completely normal function for him. He wants to take Lafayette apart, dissect his mind until it’s a pile of mush for him. He feels competitive, suddenly, wanting all of Lafayette’s attention. He’s not unused to the craving. He often finds himself vying for the spotlight, the glory. He wants to impress and be congratulated.

He wraps his mouth around Lafayette and wastes no time burying him to the hilt, dropping his head steadily till his nose is pressed to his thatch of pubic hair. He can take it - he swallows dutifully over the intrusion, practiced, breathes through his nose. Lafayette is staring down at him wide-eyed when Alexander looks up at him, blinking back whatever inconsequential tears have gathered in the corners of his eyes with the strain. All that matters is this; making his mark. It’s all that’s ever mattered.

It doesn’t take long. Lafayette is throwing his head back and moaning, his tight curls coalescing in mussed tangles on one shoulder. John is encouraging him loudly from the bed, calling him _good boy, good boy, yes,_ and Alexander reels under the praise, doubles down his efforts. He firms up his tongue, dips it right into the ridge underneath Lafayette’s cockhead, and feels his body rattle a little, holds onto the Frenchman’s broad hips as he rolls them up. It keeps his head stably where it is so his cock goes down his throat, and Alex opens his mouth wider, hums to accommodate. The vibration makes Lafayette buck hard into him and Alex takes it without moving. He is sure, here. He is an expert. He knows because Lafayette is babbling a little. “God, Alex, you… do not stop, _mon amour, petit chaton, ne vous…_ don’t… stop…”

Hamilton smiles the best he can with his lips stretched so far. _Little kitten._ The endearment recalls images of times he’s stretched out languidly for them to have their way with, purring and curling his fingers round John’s wrist or experimentally touching Lafayette’s face, as if blindly trying to map it. He closes his eyes as Lafayette drags his fingernails up through his hair from the nape of his neck to his crown, feeling like a pet getting a good scratch. It’s a cute fantasy, if a little strange. What about what gets him off isn’t strange?

He pulls back as Lafayette starts getting too eager and wraps his thumb and forefinger around the base, anxious for this to last. The haze of sex has settled comfortably over them and Alexander is in deep, happily drifting in the fog. He wants John to fuck him, he wants them both to fuck him, he wants to be laid out and doted on like he always is. He still wants to play with John, bait him until he begs to be let free of the ropes and then gets so frustrated that he breaks them, pins Alexander down and overpowers him. He has them both right where he wants them - for the moment, somewhat pliable, swayable. He can convince them to do anything he wants, with only a sweep of his tongue and a bat of his eyelashes - that’s a power he relishes, rides high on.

He stands, and without the distraction of working his mouth he winces as he’s reminded of the pain in his backside, the soft flesh of thighs probably still an angry red. He goes to the bed, retakes his place next to John. “Alexander,” he says, through lips bite-stained with scarlet. He doesn’t follow it up, just stares at him. As if his name is enough.

Alexander wants to kiss him, so he does, slow and sloppy and lazy, marvelling at the slide of tongue on tongue even at their awkward angle. He encourages John to move upward so as to relieve some of the strain on his arms, and John does. “Are you being good now?” John murmurs against him, and Alexander smiles and nips his bottom lip, lets that serve as his answer.

Lafayette has also crossed the room to join them, and now he kneels on the other side of John, observing them. “Alexander,” he says, ghosting his fingers across his arm. “I think you ought to let John open you up.”

It seems so obvious that Alex can’t believe he didn’t think of it before. Their positioning, John’s pretty mouth, his unselfish tongue - Alexander sucks in a breath. He wants this more than anything. He lets Lafayette hold his hands and guide him to straddle John’s face, and John lets out a breath against him and he shivers, a full-body sensation that comes over him in waves - first the anticipation, then the new pain as he settles back against John’s shoulders, then the pleasure as John darts his tongue out - and oh, it has been far too long since they’ve done this. His brain begins to short-circuit almost as soon as the wetness hits him, and John opens him up so beautifully, so willingly, and he looks into Lafayette’s eyes even as his own lids get heavy and his lips part and soon he’s moaning, loudly, shamelessly, rocking back on John’s face and hearing him breathe in through his nose when he can.

Laurens is gone - he wants to undo Alexander completely, is solely focused on watching him come apart. This comes before breathing, before the insistent ache in his own groin. John wants to prove something to Hamilton, something deep and dark and beckoning and beautiful, something both freeing and rapturous. He swirls his tongue around his opening until he has Alexander incoherent, and then he licks into him, and Alex leans forward, pushes back against him. Lafayette is petting his hair, holding him steady from above him, and then he’s also stroking John’s stomach, inching his waistband lower, lower…

John chokes out a yelp as Lafayette’s big hand wraps around his cock, finding it fully hard and leaking. He drags his thumb over the head, pulls the precome down to lubricate the shaft. Practiced, just enough but not nearly. John moans and recommits to fucking Alexander with his tongue, and Alex leans all the way down to rest his head against John’s belly, biting into it with his incisors. He grinds back against him for a little while longer before biting back the want and moving, turning so he can face John and kiss him. He tastes himself - he tastes John, and wants him badly. He lets Lafayette adjust them both until John is pressing into him, and then he leans back, into the taller man’s arms, sinking down on John’s cock. He lets himself be held and directed, lets his hips be pivoted by Lafayette’s deft hands - he couldn’t imagine making a decision right now, and the ways Lafayette is moving him, so that John fills him perfectly every time, are angled just right.

John tries to use what little leverage he has to contribute, but he’s practically flat on his back and he can’t really do anything but watch Alex be as much at Lafayette’s mercy has he is. It doesn’t bother him. Alexander looks gorgeous, laid back against the solidity of Lafayette’s chest, his back arched and with the red the spanking had painted on the backs of his legs curling around the sides of them. His head is back against Lafayette’s shoulder, his throat bared, but he looks down at John from above, his mouth open, saliva from the earlier blowjob still sticking to his chin.

“You’re all dirty, baby,” John tells him, rolling his hips in a slow circle. Alexander groans, hips starting to move faster of their own accord. Lafayette holds him steady, though, slows him back down. Alexander is working toward his orgasm and he hasn’t even been touched, his cock bobbing temptingly between his spread legs. Lafayette pitches him forward suddenly so that he’s lying down against John and covers his back, pressing Alex between them. He kisses the back of Alexander’s neck and rubs his groin against Alex’s abused ass, growling predatorily.

Lafayette is on such a trip that John is the only one who notices the way Alexander’s gone silent and the tears streaming down his face. John knows this is bad, has seen it once or twice before. This is not the intensity of the sex by itself. He also knows that when he gets like this Alexander can't speak. He does it for him.

“Laf. Red. Untie me,” John says, involuntarily - it's harsh barks of noise punched up from his gut - and Lafayette stops short and, looking rather confused, does so. As he loosens the rope holding his wrists, John flexes his hands preemptively, so that they'll be ready to use when he's completely free. His breath is gone, arousal a distant thing overcome by his worry. 

“Alexander. Stop.” He doesn't bother with the safe signals, just speaks firm and low - freaking Alex out more would sort of defeat the purpose here. Alexander has a tendency to take everything personally, and while this hasn't stopped John from using the color words when he has actually needed to, he'd rather not toy with their effectiveness by using them to get Alex’s attention. He knows he can temper him down from whatever overwhelming high he's on without them.

Alex seems to be startled by John’s hands on his sides - he probably missed him being untied - and it slows his craze, and he opens his eyes. Immediately John can see how wet they are, and he know Alex can tell he sees because he blinks furiously, trying desperately to will the tears away.

Lafayette has caught on, now, and he pulls Alexander to sit back up, a hand on his arm but letting him have his space. John has the same reticence, keenly aware that he’s still seated fully inside Alex but not wanting to jar him by pulling out. Lafayette rubs his back while he comes down from it, and John runs his palms down Alex’s ribs, hoping their combined touch is soothing. Alexander’s trying to breathe but he’s still shaking, and he hopes to God neither of them feel like asking - he doesn’t even know, himself, just the odd, unexpected terror of claustrophobia had come rolling in like a storm and he’d felt the panic start and he doesn’t know how he would explain that and make it sound reasonable.

Luckily, nobody seems all that interested. Lafayette and John eventually roll him onto his side, and the scent in the room dissipates, and the mood easily shifts itself from fevered to sleepy, and John runs his hand over Alexander’s chest before kissing him and Lafayette is laying a line of appreciative little nips along his shoulder. Alex mumbles something unimportant and stretches out between them, letting John shift his head to fluff the pillow they are sharing.


End file.
